[*NAWSA GENERAL CORRESPONDENCE Post, Alice T (Mrs. Louis F. Post)*] Alice Thacher Post 2513 TWELFTH STREET, N.W. WASHINGTON, D.C. Dec .20, 1921. Dear Miss Blackwell: Thank you warmly for your kind card of remembrance. I was myself going to write you a little note of good wishes for the season. I am glad to hear from time to time of your welfare, and to note occasional things from your always vigorous pen. I also meant in writing you to enclose some copies of translations and Spanish poems received from you at the time we got out that Pan American Bulletin, in which you helped us so much. It is true that you did not ask for them back, so I put them away among my papers. But it has occurred to me that you must have many requests like ours, and that you may have an opportunity to use these over again. You have a wonderful gift for getting a foreign spirit into verse, and it is surely a great use to aid one people to understand the genius of another. Upon that understanding and sympathy must be built our certainly coming future internationalism. With most friendly greetings and great appreciation of all that women and internationalists owe you, I am Faithfully yours, Alice Thacher Post 2513 TWELFTH STREET, N.W. WASHINGTON, D.C. April 14, 1923. Dear Miss Blackwell: You are always so kind about remembering us at the anniversary seasons with pretty cards, and I always feel like writing you a little letter when I receive them. So this is just a line of greeting from busy lives to a busy life. I hope it finds you well and happy in good work. How many good things there are to do in these troubled days! The constructive moveme[m]nts which lead to the great co-operative life of the world upon which only can rest [only] the true peace-- these are still my chief interest. I know you are living in the midst of such impulses. With affectionate remembrances from us both, Faithfully yours, Alice Thacher Post Alice Thacher Post [*Alice T. Post in address*] 2513 Twelfth Street, N.W. Washington, D.C. May 1, 1923 Dear Miss Blackwell: Y'r letter has come today. We will gladly look up the Carducci poem. Louis has already hastily examined several of the years of The Public near the time you assign, but has not so far found it. But we will look farther & more carefully, after a few days' delay, occasioned by our starting early tomorrow for New York, to be gone until Saturday - a delay we regret. Sincerely y'rs, Alice Thacher Post [*1940*] Mrs. Louis F. Post 2513 Twelfth Street, N.W. Washington 9, D.C. "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. . . . In him was life; and the life was the light of men. . . . That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world." John i--1, 4, 9. Affectionate remembrances from Alice Thacher Post MRS. LOUIS F. POST - 2513 TWELFTH ST. N. W. - WASHINGTON, D. C. A dawn wind blows beneath the stars, bearing new words. Affectionate greetings from Alice Thacker Post April 12, 1943 MRS. LOUIS F. POST 2513 TWELFTH STREET, N. W. WASHINGTON, D. C. March 28, 1929. Dear Miss Blackwell, How wonderfully you succeed in bringing out the spirit of the poets of other tongues! It is a great international service you have accomplished with your sympathetic translations. I for one am grateful for it. Thanking you for always so kindly remembering me, and with best wishes for your own health and happiness. Faithfully yours, Alice Thacker Post. Alice Thacher Post [*P*] Mrs. Louis F. Post 2513 Twelfth Street N.W. Washington, D.C. October 17, 1930 Dear Miss Blackwell: It was most kind of you to send me your fine review of The Prophet in MS. It could not be bettered. When I sent a copy of the book to you it was with no thought of giving you the trouble of writing a review of it, but it is delightful to me that you have done so, and at such length, and with such delicate discrimination and fidelity -- proof that the reviewer had read the book, which, alas, is not usually the case, as I am sure you have often found with pain to be the fact. I am so sorry you have been having trouble with your eyes. I hope it is temporary. I do not see as well as formerly, but by taking pains to have just the right lighting I seem to be able to read as much as ever. With appreciation and thanks, Faithfully yours, Alice Thacher Post Alice Thacher Post Mrs. Louis F. Post - 2513 Twelfth St., N.W. - Washington, D.C. April 6, 1939. Dear Miss Blackwell: I am so glad the eyes still give me some services and your memory and love of others still give great service, and that is still more to be grateful for. I am going to give you a slangy thought which is one way to carry a message in these days of desperate need. I have sent it so far to only two men, but you are of robust mind and I think you will not be shocked. Shall we rage with the Antediluvians, or bet on Noah? Affectionately your friend, Alice Thacher Post Mrs. Louis F. Post - 2513 Twelfth St., N.W. - Washington, D.C. Standing by night in the house of the lord Bless ye the Lord all ye servants of the Lord who by night stand in the house of the Lord. Psalm 134 Affectionate regards from Alice Thacher Post March 1942 [*Most friendly remembrances Alice Thacher Post*] The Conquering Army by Katrina Trask Published in 1915 A mighty Host, implacable as Fate, Has marched, unceasing, through the centuries, Across the myriad passes of the earth. Men of all countries and of every clime Have swelled the countless number of the Host. Their garments, crimson-dyed, drip human blood: Their eyes are grim as graves: their rough-shod feet Trample fair women and frail new-born babes: Their hands, blood-stained, are quick to seize, to rend, To ravage, to destroy. O'er the green earth, Where they have passed, as withering blight remains; Red ruin, desolation, and the dead Heaped high as Heaven, a ghastly spectacle. The little children, terror-stricken, run To fondle fathers dead upon the field, Or croon to outraged mothers, dead at home. Defenseless maidens die, defiled by men: And all things beautiful are desecrate. For numberless dark ages, marched the Host - As they marched, they sang: Lo! We are the Army of Death: We care not for Mercy - for Right: Hot fury and flame is our breath: We battle for Conquest and Might. We go forth to slay and be slain: No mortal can stand where we pass: With dead we have powdered the plain, With blood we have poisoned the grass. Lo! We are the Army of Death, The merciless Army of Death, The conquering Army of Death. Yet, ever, in the record of the years, The conquest won, in turn, was swept away By later conquests of the conquering Host. Since time began, the devastating horde Has left no permanent, no living mark; Has no endurance found in victory; Nothing but irremediable woe, And bitter seeds for future harvesting - Hot hatred, and fresh greed for after-strife. Each hard-won truce was but a passing pause, Each conquest but a transitory gain In the long warfare of the waiting world. Strong Babylon and stately Nineveh In triumph rose to glory and renown, Flourished a fleeting day of royal fame, To be, once more, low-levelled to the dust By later deeds of conquest and of doom : Great Persia, matchless Greece, majestic Rome, Each rose in pride, then prostrate fell again Before the trampling of the ceaseless Host. The towering Teutons, the remorseless Turks, The dauntless Anglo-Saxons and the Celts, The valiant Franks, the Latins and the Slavs, Have each, in turn, been drenched in blood of kin. After long centuries of savage reign, The ruthless, devastating horde became The finely-finished flower of Christendom - Baptized as Christians, civilized as men : To-day, a purpose consecrate they hold - To guard high honor, and to serve mankind : The glory of aggression they disclaim - Vaunting ambition, selfishness, and greed : In splendid armed peace they now await The call of Duty - the appeal for help, Then bravely march, with fine-intentioned zeal. Yet still they are the mighty Host of Death, Who consecrate themselves to butchery With lofty purpose and supreme intent : They kill for honor, and for justice slay : And as they march they sing : Lo! We are the Army of Death : Great wrongs at our coming shall cease : God breathes in our spirit His breath : We battle for Mercy and Peace. We go forth to slay and be slain : For Duty and Justice we fight. We care not for gold nor for gain, We battle alone for the Right. Lo! We are the Army of Death, The civilized Army of Death, The Christianized Army of Death. And still they slaughter - as they go to serve, Equipped with frightful engines, swift to kill : The mutilated men by millions fall In trenches red with horror, piled with dead : Still, as of old, the orphaned children cry, In blackened towns laid waste and desolate, And maidens, forced to bitter motherhood, Are left to curse the day that they were born. Men are insane with slaughter, drunk with blood, The toxic curse of war : there is no way Of killing they forget, no fiendish mode Of torture they forego : a shrieking Hell Is found where'er they fight. Before they march, The Army, in God's holy name, is blessed, And over implements of war is made, And on rewards for bravery is wrought The awful and historic cross of Christ Who died to teach men Love for all mindkind. The patient God, the while, looks down from Heaven And laughs with humor infinite, divine. He knows old ways will bring but old results. To punish like with like, makes like, again : The thistle from the thistle seed must spring : Swords are the destined harvest of the sword. But see! Behold! from the awakened East - Where shines the splendor of the morning star, Where spreads the effulgence of the coming Dawn, Which heralds the glad birth of a new Day - A valiant company is moving on, An Army quiet, unregarded, small, Devoid of flaming arms and armaments, But terrible with Banners : strong in soul : Brave men and women with their hearts aflame To dare, to do, to help and to endure. Their wind-swept garments smell of fragrant flowers And spicy odors of the woodland pine - No stench of blood is flaunted from the folds. With perfect poise this Army marches on, Unheeding cruel taunts and mocking sneers, More sharp than bullets to the conscious heart : When jeering men "white-livered cowards" hiss, High courage is the conquest they attain - To stay the hand and smile in steadfast strength. Their eyes are glowing with an inward light, As though they looked upon the great Unseen : Their hands are quick to bind, to soothe, to bless. How beautiful their onward pathway shines ! The yellow corn springs high, the golden grain Waves promise on a thousand fruiful hills : Great cities rise, enduring works increase ; Glad homes are crowned with comfort and care : And brooding science finds new secrets out. The glory of accomplishment is theirs, The mission of the mighty enterprise - To conquer nature and to master art. The secret of eternal harmony - The reconciliation e world. The Army's ranks grow larger, year by year - Its dauntless power invincible becomes : Naught turns nor swerves it from its onward course - No persecuting jest, no argument, No noisy talk of Honor - every man And every woman in the Army knows That Honor is a holy thing, too dear To leave to the arbitrament of arms, To fatal hazard of chance shot and shell. And as they march they sing : Lo ! We are the Army of Life ! We are clothed with the strength of the Sun, We are marching to conquer strife, We carry nor sabre nor gun. Bright blossoms immortal shall spring In the way that our feet have trod : A guerdon of giving we bring - Good-will unto all men from God. Lo ! We are the Army of Life, The terrible Army of Life, The conquering Army of Life. By Nature's laws made manifest to man, All Death is but Negation - dark decay : Life is the vital spark that brings forth life : Death shall be swallowed up in Victory. All Hail, O Conquering Army of the Dawn ! Distributed throughh CLEARING HOUSE FOR LIMITATION OF ARMAMENT 3 West 29th Street, New York City November, 1921 MRS. LOUIS F. POST - 2513 TWELFTH ST., N.W. - WASHINGTON, D. C. WHY DEMOCRACY? If denied right of choice human beings are slaves or machines. With choice-- political, economic, spiritual-- they are men, Free to choose, if they will, to work with God for a world on the march. Alice Thacher Post affectionate regards to miss Blackwell, & gratitude for her beautiful messages- Alice Thacher Post Mrs. Louis F. Post - 2513 Twelfth St., N.W. - Washington, D.C. There are three most worthwhile things in the life of this world: -- Personal association with kindred, friends and in marriage, -- A useful job in the co-operating human life. -- Acquaintance with God. Alice Thacher Post _________ [*Affectionate remembrances from Alice Thacher Post 1942 Merry Christmas*] Mrs. Louis F. Post - 2513 Twelfth St., N.W. - Washington, D.C. Far stronger than yours is the hand Which is guiding the world through this crisis, Fear not. Keep faith to the end. For the mighty Master Builder has need Of your help in the vaster rebuilding. Do not fail Him-- your Father and Friend. -- Alice Thacher Post, [*Thank you, dear Miss Blackwell, for y'r lines of faith & courage. Affectionately y'rs Alice Thacher Post*] Transcribed and reviewed by contributors participating in the By The People project at crowd.loc.gov.